Love can be found in other people's yards
Love, or in some cases deep appreciation, can help to smooth over obvious flaws. I remember the first week that the orange kitty came indoors to be my own. I tried to leave him inside when I was gone for a night. He devoured the entire contents of the selffeeder and later I found a giant mound of cat poop unlovingly deposited on my suitcase. I love him so much I put up with mounds of fur under the rocking chair and holes in the down comforter where he kneaded himself a kitty nest.
It takes only a few weeks of reading this column to understand I love plants. I root for the underdogs, believe native plants should have more rights and watch plants before, during and after their bloom.
And now is the moment of the saucer magnolia. The tree is having its moment in the sun, hour of glory, fleeting triumph. About now, when many others are bare and dormant, saucer magnolia is showing off like a nude dancer strategically hiding under a feather boa.
I often silently claim ownership of things I admire — “my river,” “my” parking space, “my” cat and Hugh Jackman.
Currently, it's easy to admire “my” saucer magnolia, which is directly in the path from the parking lot to the entrance of my office building. I've watched it for weeks, stopping some days to check out the buds when they were humble gray and silhouetted in the winter sky.
And one day, in what seemed like a single blink, the tree bloomed. The petals are waxy, soft pink on the inside and a deeper hue on the outside. I can see the flowers from the second floor when I walk down the hallway near last light. Sometimes they tap against the window with the slightest breeze.
Other plants are also strutting their stuff just about now, including the flowering quince, some ranunculus, daffodils … but the saucer magnolia makes a statement, currently heralding from nearly every block in town.
The trees do well here. They like full sun and have very few problems with pests. I'm wondering if they spread easily by seed, because I'm seeing them everywhere.
The problem is, their beauty is a flash in the pan. A week has gone by since “my tree” burst into full glory. And now my tree is making a mess.
Saucer magnolia, for all their grandeur, are litter bugs.
The flowers are gentle and easily fall to the ground. My walkway is scattered with mushed petals bearing the footprints of many passersby. They quickly turn brown and stick to the concrete, sometimes turning to slippery goo if there's rain.
I'll admit I fall in love with the tree again and again, but it's an on-againoff-again relationship.
I can think of a handful of other dirty trees. Mimosa tops the list and drops gunk three seasons a year. Mimosa, however, is only beautiful when covered by pipevine swallowtails. I also hate privet, with its mounds of black balls that can cover the ground as thick as snow in the foothills. When I was young and naive, I gathered three-cornered leeks and put the flowers in vases indoors, until my living room smelled like wild garlic. Learning through mistakes certainly takes a lifetime.
Mom is encouraging me to look for a house to buy, again, and if I'm successful I may own some land with a saucer magnolia. As with my tree at the office, I'd take the good and put up with the mess. However, I really appreciate these trees in other people's yards.
Garden enthusiast Heather Hacking loves when you share what's growing on. Reach out at sowtheregardencolumn@gmail.com, and snail mail at P.O. Box 5166, Chico CA 95927.